


You're My Cherry Pie

by zahrawrites



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-21 21:48:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3705677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zahrawrites/pseuds/zahrawrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original AU idea by toxixpumpkin on Tumblr:</p><p>I run a (technically illegal) snack shop in school and you’re the student council president who caught me.</p><p> </p><p>As usual, constructive criticism and comments are always welcome.</p><p>Enjoy x</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested, my Tumblr is [here](http://prettyboydean.tumblr.com)  
> Drop me a message, tell me what you thought - I'd really appreciate it :)

"Three cranberry muffins for the lovely Edwards triplets." Castiel winks, handing the packeted goods to the blonde girl who’s next in the queue. She giggles and he takes the money from her and puts it in his pouch.

He runs a hand through his hair and moves on to the next customer.

"Hey, Clarence." Meg purrs, leaning over the stall.

He pastes a smile on for her. "Meg. What can I get you?"

She grins, something akin to a Chesire cat and something tells him she’s about to request something he _definitely_ does not want to give her. "Cherry tart."  She says, obviously changing her mind at the last minute.

He retrieves a packet and hands it to her. "One cherry tart for… my cherry tart." He smirks. He enjoys their banter. She insists on ensuring that their skin touches when she takes it and hands him the correct payment.

"See you later, Clarence." She walks away biting into her tart.

The snack shop he’s opened in the abandoned building on the far side of the school makes him a lot of money - _especially_ when the school decided that they would be following a healthier menu. He saw a demand in the system and started his supply and now it’s more popular than ever.

The bell rings before he can move onto the next customer and the students begin filtering out. He has a free period next and he usually spends it cleaning up the mess, taking stock of what brings him the most money and generally closing up shop for the day.

"You know I could report you, right?" comes the voice that startles Castiel making him clutch the clipboard to his chest in defence.

It’s Dean Winchester. Student Council President. He’s just in a waistcoat today, shirt sleeves rolled up to the elbows, hands tucked into his black jeans pockets. His hair is mussed – the gel must be losing its hold, lips as pink as ever, and bottle green eyes taking in the room.

"Uh- this is not what it looks like, I swear, and-" Castiel tries because he's moved his "office" three times but Dean's always caught him out. He knows the game is lost when Dean looks at him pointedly and steps further into the room surveying the goods.

"Right, and I’m Freddie Mercury." He scoffs.

Castiel’s brows furrow.

"…I’m obviously not Fred- nevermind." Dean says and runs his fingertips over the surface of the empty desk. Castiel follows the movement. Then, he walks over to the table by the window which is stacked with sweet and savoury goods and takes them in. He picks up a plastic packet and tries to read its name. Castiel knows because he can see Dean’s lips moving, but there’s no sound coming out.

Castiel goes to stand by his side. "It’s called Bienenstich."

Dean thinks for a moment. "German?"

Castiel nods. "Also known as Bee Sting Cake." He takes the cake from Dean’s hands and puts it back where it belongs.

"See anything you’d like?" Castiel asks quietly, and he tries not say it in the flirty way like how he would with is customers, but it comes out exactly like that. Dean just turns his head to look at him, gaze flicking down to his lips and it definitely feels like Dean’s going to kiss him. Castiel notes that he wouldn’t mind right now.

"You got any pie?" Dean replies suddenly and loud enough that it breaks Castiel out of his reverie.

"O-of course." He replies, putting down his clipboard and walking over to another desk and reaching behind into one of the cardboard boxes. He pulls out six different varieties and Dean looks like it’s his birthday and Christmas rolled into one.

He picks one and takes off its wrapping – Castiel hands him a fork. He turns around and perches on the edge of the desk. Castiel comes to sit on the desk beside him, shoulders bumping.

Dean eats in silence for a while before he says, "You know, if you ever wanna kiss me, you don’t have to wait for me to be the first one to do it or anything."

Castiel didn’t think he was that obvious. He swings his legs.

Dean puts down the pie and turns to stand in the V of Castiel’s legs and rests his arms on Castiel’s shoulders.

"What would everyone say about the Student Council President dating the illegal snack vendor?" Castiel asks, slipping his hands into the back pockets of his boyfriend’s jeans.

Dean shrugs. "Screw ‘em."

Castiel looks scandalized. "I most certainly hope not."

Dean laughs. "Not like that." He brings his hands to rest against Cas’ neck. He runs his thumb gently against the underside of Castiel’s jawline and tugs him forward. "You’re the only one I wanna screw, I promise." He murmurs before pressing their lips together.

Dean tastes of cherry pie and Castiel makes a mental note to order more of that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This sort of just happened because goldandrust requested a continuation and I thought, well, why not?  
> @goldandrust I'm not sure if this is even close to what you were looking for, but here you go :)  
>  
> 
> As usual, constructive criticism and comments are always welcome.
> 
> Enjoy x

After they spend a ludicrous amount of time making out in the solitude of their privacy, Castiel practically has to push Dean out of the door so he can lock up.

He takes note of the goods that he needs to order, and makes sure to remember to pass his list onto Benny on his way out of school.

He has Mr Singer next for Auto Shop (which Dean is also in) and which he simultaneously hates and loves. Hates because he can never get his head around cars, and loves because by the end, Dean is usually all hot and bothered after spending an hour being the poster boy for vehicular mechanics. He pretends to be annoyed but Castiel knows he loves being under the cars and inside the engines.

Dean’s already there when Castiel takes his seat, a look of pointed acknowledgement thrown across the room. Dean rubs his thumb across his bottom lip and Castiel smiles shyly.

"What the hell’s wrong with you?" Meg asks from beside him.

Castiel smile falls. "Nothing. Who pissed in your cornflakes?" he retorts.

"Winchester givin’ you shit again?" she asks instead, ignoring his remark.

"No, we’re… we’re good." He answers carefully.

Meg narrows her eyes suspiciously, but the classroom door slams and it draws all their attention to Mr Singer. The man stalks to his desk and drops a pile of papers on it, some flutter to floor but he doesn’t bother to retrieve them. Castiel throws Meg a surprised look; she rolls her eyes in response.

"Today, we’re gonna learn about when you should change your spark plugs and how to do it." He catches Dean eye across the room.

"Dean." He says and the boy stands obediently to take off his waistcoat and drape it over his stool, and comes to stand beside Mr Singer. The older man takes a seat while Dean tucks his hands into his front jean’s pockets nervously.

This isn’t anything new. Dean works with Mr Singer (Uncle Bobby to him) on the weekends and knows a lot more than the rest of them about cars anyway.

"Petrol and LPG Gas powered cars run on what are basically explosions of energy, controlled partly by the spark plugs. So, spark plugs are an important part of your motor." He starts, eyes scanning over the classroom. "They give you the spark that ignites the air and fuel mixture within the cylinders." His gestures with his hands and his eyes linger on Castiel’s for far longer than the other students before they flick away again. "This continuous ignition is what keeps your car moving on the road."

Mr Singer nods in the background, obviously approving of Dean’s apt introduction.

He takes them through the ways in which you can tell when the plugs need changing by listing them on the whiteboard, turning around to explain each point before moving on to the next one. He’s carded his hand through his hair more than once – a way of comforting himself in a moment of anxiety – and now it looks dishevelled. Dean’s never been comfortable with public speaking, but he tries, and when it’s about a subject he enjoys, he’s less nervous than usual.

He leads them to the junkyard outside to a blue car – Castiel doesn’t know what it’s called.

"Diesel engines don’t have spark plugs." He says and lifts the hood. Castiel appreciates the shift of muscle under his shirt. Before going further, Dean turns back to the class. "Always make sure that you let the engine cool down before replacing the plugs, ‘cause they can get hot and the engine compartment might burn you." He says sternly. After receiving a few nods from the other students he turns to the engine.

"First thing you gotta do, is find out where your spark plugs are. If you’re not familiar with your car, then really, you don't deserve to be driving her." He says and receives amused smiles and a few huffs of laughter.

"Just 'cause _you're_ fucking your car, Deano!" Meg remarks loudly and the laughter from the group is stronger.

He laughs. "Seriously, folks, get to know your cars. If you really can't find the plugs, then you should refer to the owner’s manual."

He rests one hand on the open hood by his head and leans under it to refer to the wires. "When you pop the hood, you should see a bundle of four to eight wires leading to different points on the engine." He points to them and traces the connection with his finger.

"The plugs are usually at the engine end of these wires, under the plug covers that attach ‘em."

He pulls back to look at his classmates again.

"On a four cylinder, spark plugs will be at the top or side of the engine in a row – same thing on an inline eight cylinder. But on a V6 and V8, the plugs should be separated evenly on each side of the engine. Got it?" he waits for the nod of understanding. "Good."

"Now, some cars have engine covers that you’ll have to remove to see the plug wires. If you don’t know, you should...?" He leaves the question open-ended, waiting for a response.

Nobody responds so Castiel speaks up.

"Check the manual." He calls.

He looks over at Castiel and smiles, obviously satisfied.

"Thank you, looks like _someone's_ paying attention."

He drags his gaze away from Castiel and to everybody else.

" _Always_ check the owner’s manual to look up where they are, how many you should have, the proper gap, and the size socket you need to remove them."

Most of that information goes over the student’s heads and Dean can tell, so he sighs and says, "If you can’t do it, just fuck it and call me."

There’s a ripple of laughter, Castiel hears Lisa remark quietly to Casey about how she’d have the perfect way to _repay_ him for his services and it irks him. He doesn't know why, but he bristles against the sound of her voice. His jaw clenches and he thinks that Dean can tell something’s wrong because the other boy dismisses the class and tells them to find the spark plugs in their own cars, strolling up to Castiel so as not to draw attention to them.

"You okay?"

"Fine." Castiel says and stalks to his assigned car. Dean follows him.

He pops his hood and ducks down under it.

"You know where your spark plugs are?" Dean says it like an innuendo that deserves a retort but Castiel bites his tongue and tracks his gaze over the machinery in front of him.

After a beat, Dean ducks down under the hood and just looks at him.

"What do you want?" Castiel asks, irritation evident in his voice, when he’s had enough of Dean burning a hole into the side of his head.

He turns to look at Dean, but the other boy’s just smiling softly, eyes slightly glazed over in rapt amusement. 

"What?" Castiel asks again.

Dean’s eyes flick down to his lips and back up to his eyes. "Nothing."

Castiel imitates the motion and a heated blush graces his cheeks so he turns back to the engine. He recalls Dean’s words from the classroom.

"You _are_ allowed…" Dean reminds him quietly, and then glances cautiously around the hood of the car at the other students. He doesn’t realise that that glance is a mistake, because when he looks back at Castiel, there’s a glint of hurt in the boy’s eyes.

"No, I’m not." Castiel shakes his head minutely and moves away to dig through the glove compartment, presumably, for the owner’s manual.

Before Dean can say anything, his name is called and he turns to greet the caller with a plastered smile.

"Yeah?"

"I can’t find my spark plugs." Lisa says sweetly and cocks her hip.

"Did you check your manual?" He asks but is met by a confused expression. He sighs, says, "Yeah, okay.", and she walks him to her car. He throws a glance back to Castiel, but the boy is engrossed in the manual.

Castiel doesn’t look up through their entire transaction, but he can’t help but look up when she giggles loud enough to draw his attention. Dean’s leaning under the hood and Lisa’s hand rests on his shoulder as she leans into him and nods in response to what he’s saying.  

Dean returns the smile and Castiel stands to go and distract himself by looking at engine again. He knows where the spark plugs are. Had known from the moment he’d opened the hood – Dean’s a good teacher.

Mr Singer comes outside and hurries Dean over to him. They talk about something and gesture over to Castiel’s car. Before Dean can call his name to stop him, Castiel is so wrapped up in his thoughts that he goes to grip the plug wire to remove it but he misjudges the distance and his hand lands on the burning hot top of the engine.

The pain is blistering and shoots up his arm, he yelps and stumbles back, inadvertently knocking the back of his head against the hood.His unburnt hand goes to hold the back of this head and Dean’s already by his side, holding his wrist and dragging him inside to run it under cold water, all the while saying things like, _it’s okay_ , and, _I’ve got you_ , and, _just breathe_.

They stand there, hips together, Dean holding Cas' wrist under the cool water, Cas' other hand squeezing at the back of his head to soothe the pain.

"Shit. I didn't even- I should've known- _fuck_ \- Bobby just came and told me-"

"Shut up, Dean." Castiel interjects, his burnt hand's gone limp in Dean's hold. His eyes are screwed shut and he's rubbing furiously at the back of his head.

"I'm sorry, Cas. I had no idea. Bobby told me he'd taken yours for a drive. I didn't even realise, I should've known, I just..."

"If you don't shut up, I swear to every damn deity, I'm going to kiss you right here." Castiel threatens.

Dean quietens.

Castiel can hear the smirk in his voice when he replies.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Don't fucking test me."

Castiel hopes that Dean gives him an excuse... but it never comes.

He tugs his hand out from under the tap in frustration, and, thereby, out of Dean's grip. The hand massaging his head falls to touch against the harsh red marks in his skin.

Dean cards a hand through his hair and rests it against the throbbing. He doesn't want to lean into the comfort, but it's so soothing that he struggles to deny himself.

"I really am sorry, Cas." Dean apologises quietly.

Castiel sighs. "It's not your fault."

"Just fucking kiss and make up already." comes Meg's startling voice and they jump apart by habit. Dean splutters a denial that Castiel turns away at to run his hand under cold water. Sometimes, he thinks Dean’s ashamed of him. Dean makes the effort, sure, but not when it counts. Castiel thinks he should stop trying.

"You coming?" Dean asks him.

"Actually, I’m going to skip class and go home. I’m not feeling well."

"Oh. You want me to come?"

Castiel shakes his head and shuts the tap. "Wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea." He mutters, pushes past Dean to retrieve his bag and walks out of class.

He knows Dean will make up a believable excuse for his absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know as much about cars as I'd like, so I got my information for this chapter from http://www.wikihow.com/Change-Spark-Plugs-in-a-Car and http://www.motoringabout.com/when-to-change-spark-plugs/
> 
> Also, I know almost next to nothing about how the American education system works (I mean, do you even have Auto Shop?) so, I'm sorry if I got this all grossly wrong - but I did Google it, and in the words of Daniel Radcliffe - I tried and therefore no-one should criticize me :P  
>  
> 
> If you're interested, my Tumblr is prettyboydean.tumblr.com  
> Drop me a message, tell me what you thought - i'd hella appreciate it :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't what this is... but it's gonna get worse (pls don't kill me) 
> 
> (plus holyshit I can't believe it's been a year since I updated this????)

Castiel avoids everybody on the way out of school, head down, backpack slung haphazardly over his shoulder. Benny tries to get his attention and Castiel stops for him only because it’s about the shop. 

"What?" he tries not to tamp down on the irritation but he can't help it. 

"Woah, you okay, Chief? What happened to your hand?" Benny reaches out concernedly but Castiel snatches it away before he can even get close. 

"Nothing." he grumbles. "What do you want?" 

Benny doesn't push. "I talked to my guy. Next delivery's not for a couple days."

"I thought it was coming tomorrow?"

Benny shrugs. "His cousin got into some trouble with the cops. He's uh... unavailable till-"

His tone is hesitant and it reminds him of Dean's hesitance. Castiel waves him off abruptly. "I don't care." He backs away towards the doors. "Just text me when it comes in."

He doesn't hear Benny's reply because he's already out the doors and jogging down the street. He gets home in record time because half way through he breaks out into a sprint; the image of Dean's face, borderline shameful, replaying over and over in his head. 

Slamming the front door, he tosses his backpack to the ground near the living room entrance and collapses on the couch. He sighs, the exhale is relaxing, and closes his eyes, letting his head roll back to rest against the back of the couch. There's a dull ache in his burnt hand where he rests it on the couch beside his thigh.

Then, something hits him in the chest and falls to his lap. 

"Figure that should help with the hand." Gabriel nods to the tube of burn cream as Castiel’s forced to open his eyes. He looks for the object and inspects it while his brother sits beside him and turns on the TV, volume purposely muted.

Castiel fiddles with the tube, making no real effort to apply it.

"What happened?" Gabriel asks after Castiel tosses the tube carelessly to the side. 

He doesn't say anything, doesn’t really _want_ to say anything—just slumps into the couch. 

"Is it Dean?" 

Castiel slumps even further into the couch and kicks his feet up onto the coffee table. That's when Gabriel turns his body to face him, arm resting along the back of the couch. 

"Look, you know I only say this 'cause I love you." He starts.

Castiel groans petulantly. He rolls his head back to rest on the couch and stares at the ceiling.  

"No, shut up and listen." 

He ensures Castiel is quiet before speaking. 

"You deserve better." He enunciates it clearly enough for Castiel to understand what’s _really_ being said.

"Gabe, don't-"

"Castiel." 

That's the first time in a long time that Gabriel's used his full name. It snaps his attention towards his brother. He expects to see anger but there's nothing except sympathy and fierce protectiveness. 

"I'm serious." He intones. "You don't see yourself. You don't know what this does to you."

Castiel looks away- he can’t help the shame that burns in his cheeks. Before he has a chance to defend himself, another voice interrupts. 

"Our dear brother might be a lot of things, Castiel, but he's not a liar." 

Two sets of eyes turn to the doorway to see Anna walk in to the room, hair ablaze, a nice change from the colourless dull of their living room. Her gaze is intense enough that Castiel has to avert his gaze. 

"He's not wrong." She taps the soles of his shoes twice and sits down in their place when he slides them off the table. 

"You deserve more than doubt and insincerity." She grabs the burn cream from beside him and unscrews it, placing his wrist in her lap gently. He winces expectedly at the first dab but lets her continue her ministrations. The soft touch is soothing and he welcomes some kindness after the day he’s had.

"And what about what Dean deserves?" he offers quietly.

There's a defensive retort about to spill out of his siblings' mouths but he doesn't let it see the light of day. 

"Someone who's not going to tarnish his perfect record, someone whose family isn't irreparably dysfunctional… someone who's not a  _fucking_  embarrassment?" 

Gabriel and Anna are both taken aback by his language because he  _never_  swears. He sees them exchange a _look_ from the corner of his eye but he doesn’t look up. Instead, he chooses to keep his gaze determinedly fixed on where Anna’s fingers falter for a moment before resuming.

His heart’s beating a little harder after the outburst, the harsh truth of it hitting him like a freight train.

Gabriel sighs from beside him. "Look, Cas. We might not be The Brady Bunch, and call every fucking holiday and wear matching sweaters-" he pauses, waits for his little brother to have enough courage to meet his gaze.

He does, and Anna smiles.

"-but I can guarantee that if I call Luci or Mike or Raph and tell them that we need them here?" A sense of pride exudes from him when he talks about their other brothers. "They’d be at our front door before I could hang up."

"And for the record-" Anna interjects, fingers gently turning his head by his chin so he’s looking at her. "-you’re not a disappointment."

He swallows a little difficultly and there’s something prickling at his eyes. Swiping at them roughly with his good hand, he sits back.

"If the school calls, I was sick." He informs them quietly, eyes downcast, and leaves the room, picking up his backpack on his way up the stairs to his room.

He takes a moment to breathe when he reaches his room, clicking the door closed quietly and tossing his backpack under his desk.

The notepad that lays atop it catches his eye. The front is ugly- abstractly patterned and bright enough to hurt his eyes, but he’d liked it when he bought it. Dean had laughed, pulled him close to ruffle his hair and said it was just like him, so really, it was perfect.

Something sits heavy on his heart and he tries to take a deep breath—even expels all the air from his lungs until he’s struggling to breathe before his defences kick in and force him to heave in a truckload of air.

There’s no time for him to give his emotions his full attention because his cell beeps from his pocket. He has to make a twisting motion to reach into his other side, fumbling awkwardly at the angle. Eventually, he gets it out.

_are u ok?_

Dean.

Castiel sighs.

Another beep.

_worried about u_

He scoffs bitterly— _If he was so worried, he’d-_ Castiel shakes his head to clear his thoughts. Leaving his phone on the bed, he strolls over to his speaker deck to connect his iPod and turns the volume up, unsure of which song will play first. He doesn’t really care. Anything to drown out Dean is better than nothing. Bending at the knees, he digs out a tin box from his bottom desk drawer.

He locks his bedroom door, opens his window and clambers out onto the roof with the box. The breeze is light, barely there, the sun providing a comfortable warmth. It doesn’t matter. He opens the box, rolls a joint, and lights it. Laying back against the roofing, one arm under his head, he closes his eyes and loses himself to the world as soon as the roll-up hits his lips.

-X-x-X-

The shrill ringing is faint, coming from the direction of his open bedroom window. Castiel cracks an eye and glances towards it.

It stops mid-ring and he closes his eyes again, settling down for a few minutes. It rings twice more before he elicits a petulant groan, heaves himself up and climbs back into his room.

He answers it without checking the screen- it can only be one person.

"Dean, I’m really not interested in anything you have to-"

"Well, hello to you, too, Cassie."

Castiel freezes mid-sentence.

"…Balthazar?" he breathes.

"The one and only." Comes the smug, familiar voice through the phone.

Castiel’s splutter is met with laughter.

"I always did make you speechless, didn’t I?"

"Where have you been?" Castiel chokes out, after sobering up.

"Oh, just here and there. But I’m back, baby."

The endearment brings forth a flood of emotions that make him blush.

"Balthazar… I’m not… not anymore." He tries without being overtly blunt.

"Don’t tell me you’ve got yourself another boyfriend." He scoffs derisively.

The silence that lapses between them gives Castiel enough of an answer. He doesn’t know, not really. Dean hadn’t been clear about them. He hasn’t spoken to Dean since that morning.

"Why are you back?" Castiel asks instead.

"Ooh, touchy subject?...or touchy boyfriend?" Balthazar insists.

Castiel sighs.

"Tell you what, let’s talk about it over coffee tomorrow."

"I have school, Balthazar."

"…please?"

There’s another short silence before he relents.

"12:30. Don’t be late."

-X-x-X-

"Hey, Winchester."

Dean’s in the library working on an English assignment when a hand slams down on the book open in front of him.

He picks up her middle finger to remove her palm.

"What do you want, Meg?" he says, making sure the annoyance in his voice is heard.  

She ignores it. "You seen Clarence around today?"

He drops his pen and looks up at her when the question catches him off-guard.

"What?"

The perpetual red-lipped smirk she always wears is still there today.  

"Cas." She intones, leaning in. "Have you seen him?"

"No." he replies, keeping his gaze steady, just as he becomes aware of his cell directly beneath her on the table, face up. If something comes through, she’ll know.

She raises a brow suspiciously.

"Why do you care anyway?" he asks, fingers inching towards it.

"I don’t. I just want my tart today and the snack shop’s not open so I’m sugar-deprived."

He waits, expression evident of wondering about the part where he’s supposed to care. It’s always Cas’ decision whether or not he opens the shop—Dean, as student body president, just keeps him off the radar when it is.

She takes an unwanted seat on the table and looks at her nails. "Plus, rumour is, someone saw him skipping class to see some blond dude."

Dean clears his throat, frustration spilling into anger, mostly at himself, as he picks up his pen again.

"What the hell do you expect me to about it, Meg?"

She glances down at him in slight irritation, but seems generally undisturbed at his mood change.

"Whatever the hell you want, Winchester. I’m just lettin’ you know he’s going to see his ex."

_What?_

His heart goes into hyperdrive at her casual comment, but he tries to keep his expression neutral. It doesn’t matter either way because she leaves quietly, snatching some M&M’s off the table beside him—the owner of which doesn’t say a word.

He tries not to think about it.

He knows about Balthazar.

Vaguely.

Cas mentioned him a while ago.

Not in too much detail.

Dean presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

"You shouldn’t pay much attention to what she says." offers a hushed voice from the table beside him.

He glances towards it.

"I’m Samandriel. You can call me Alfie."

"Dean." He holds out a hand politely.

"I know." Sama- Alfie says with a smile.

The kid is scrawny, similar to Garth in body build but not nearly as touchy… he hopes.

"Meg’s infamous for uh… spreading rumours." He infers.

"You mean shit-stirring?"

Alfie nods with a tight-lipped smile.

"But um… for what it’s worth," he looks at Dean, remorse clouding his expression. "…she’s right."

"What’re you talking about?" Dean turns his body to face him.

Alfie retreats, folds him arms over his front protectively.

"I, uh… I had a dentist appointment during lunch, but on my way back to school, I passed Rise and Grind-"

"The coffee shop?"

 Alfie nods reluctantly.

"…and?" He tries to sound uninterested. He’s not supposed to care.

"Cas was there."

He shrugs but it’s a jilted motion. "It’s a popular coffee shop."

"With a blond guy."

Dean turns back to his work, heart thumping tattoos against his ribcage. "He has friends."

He notices Alfie open his mouth like he’s about to say something but decides not to.

Dean narrows his eyes suspiciously. "What?"

The other boy shakes his head. "Nothing."

Dean waits.

Alfie sighs. "They seemed… awfully close."

"Close how?"

"Just kinda… couply."

Alfie just sees him run a hand through his hair and pick up his pen and go back to his work.

Alfie doesn’t hear his heart break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested, my Tumblr is [here](http://prettyboydean.tumblr.com)  
> Drop me a message, tell me what you thought - I'd really appreciate it :)


End file.
